Stories…we must tell them.

I heard it said once that God created humans because (s)he loves stories.

We must etch them out of the bone and sinew of our wounds;

our moments of light-hearted joy, the painful disappointments, and our quaking courage to hope and persevere.

It is through telling our story that things begin to make sense, even the senseless.

Bringing our hidden and convoluting narratives to the surface not only brings clarity but also sets the stage for us to finally let our stories go.

The voices in our heads become less contradictory, compulsive, and insurgent.

Telling our story hollows us out and sets us free of our inertia. In so doing, we become better at listening to ourselves and to the stories of others as well.

Our stories are not so different in nature or in need. The details, although appearing unique to us alone, echo the same tastes, smells, sounds, and sights that make up the terrain and backdrop behind everyone’s story.

The sharing of our stories interweaves a gracious synergy of truth and compassion.

We gain the comforting realization that we are not alone, isolated, lost, or alienated from the human family and the whole of existence.

We come to appreciate that no one story is greater or less than another but a beautiful and bitter-sweet mending of our brokenness into one storytelling heart of compassion and liberation.

Such an experience moves us beyond stories of blame into stories of unity.

-TruGuy Starhorse (Jan 10, 2024)

  “This be my pilgrimage and goal

Daily to march and find

The secret phases of the soul

The evangels of the mind.“

—John Drinkwater